


Long Day

by KyberHearts_And_StardustSouls



Category: W.E. (2011)
Genre: F/M, Sex, Smut, Softcore smut, some edging
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-13
Updated: 2017-09-13
Packaged: 2018-12-27 15:11:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,101
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12083640
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KyberHearts_And_StardustSouls/pseuds/KyberHearts_And_StardustSouls
Summary: Reader insert:Reader had a long day and Evgeni takes care of her.





	Long Day

You opened the door, ready to drag your feet up the narrow staircase when the sound of soft piano music caught your attention. You halted, hitched breath, closing the door as quietly as possible behind you. For a second, a thin smile settled on your lips. He was home before you. A rarity. A welcome one. Especially today.  
   
You took off your heels, discarding them carefully by the door along with your purse, then slowed to snail pace to silence your approach. Clearly, he hadn't heard the sharp turn of the key or else he would have stopped, and you wanted... No! You needed to hear him play for as long as possible and without him knowing you were home.   
   
He was different when he thought no one was around to hear him play. More relaxed. More himself. Lost in his own music, which made it rather beautiful to hear him play. And you loved hearing him play. And today, he had chosen a soft waltz; so soft so it counted nearly as a lullaby.   
   
He had played it before. Once. Sometime after you had first met him. When he had invited you to his place for the first time. And you remembered that it had nearly made you cry back then. Not that it was a sad song. Tranquil was a more fitting term.   
Rather you had been taken aback by his talent.   
   
Unexpected softness from a rather rigid and serious kind of guy. At least that's how he had come across when you had first met him. What else would anyone expect from someone working security at one of New York's finest and most expensive galleries? He had to be vigilant in his job after all; so when you had started touching displays to somehow connect to the items up for auction, he had only ever been but two steps behind you at all times, watching you from the corner of his eye.  
   
It wasn't until you had reached the diamond diadem that he had stepped in. Even today, his tense "I'm sorry, Miss. No touching the displays!" made you mute a giggle into the palm of your hand because today, you didn't see him like that anymore. Stiff. Stern. Serious. Today you saw nothing but kindness and softness. You had since the day he had played that waltz. The one he was playing right now. And you remembered that it had nearly made you cry back then.   
   
But today..., today the song fills you with a familiar warmth. A certain tranquil happiness. Something of belonging. He was home. Before you. A rarity. And you loved the days when he was home before you. Especially today.   
   
You had almost reached the top of the stairs when a creak announced your presence, which in turn made him stop. You cussed out a "dammit" under your breath before climbing the last few steps, finding him smiling at you over the edge of his baby-grand. A warm, heavy-lidded smile which coaxed another thin smile from you.  
Then your face fell back into exhaustion and he took immediate notice.   
   
He stood up and paced your way, meeting you halfway at your own approach towards him; one hand reaching for a loosened strand of your hair and swiping it gently back into place. "What's wrong?" he asked; that rolled r due to his accent strong as ever, which, for whatever reason, procured another smile from you.  
"Nothing," you fibbed, closing your eyes as you drew in a long, heavy breath, trying to let go of your day.  
   
He tugged you close by your hips, softened browns waiting for your eyes to open. "Liar," he whispered when you finally did so.  
"Just a long day," you whispered back. Another long breath, then you looked around, noting the set dining room table and two pots on the stove-top in the kitchenette. "You cooked dinner?" Your brow lifted. He was still in his regular work clothes - well the soft blue dress shirt and charcoal dress pants at least -, and usually he changed before he cooked, which meant that he must've gotten home not ten minutes before you.  
   
"I was about to," he smiled then leaned in for a kiss. Soft velvet skimming the edges of your lips pulled a sigh from you and he smiled, again.   
"I'm going to go change," you scrunched up your face, trying to free yourself from his hold but he wouldn't have any of that.   
   
His hands staying on your hips, his lips back on yours, he slowly nudged you backwards to the bedroom, towards the queen-sized bed. Specifically the edge of the mattress at the foot of the bed. Another nudge and you found yourself sitting, your toes on the floor; and him still standing, hands still on your hips, lips still on yours, but him now leaned a bit over you.  
   
You gasped when kisses migrated from lips over your jaw-line into the curve of your neck. Warm velvet lingering above a fast beating vein. Your fast beating vein.   
"Geni..." His name came out with a sigh. "Dinner." You gasped when he gently nipped your skin.  
"Dinner can wait," he mumbled with a strong rolled r, leaving behind another velvet kiss. This time open-mouthed, the rougher texture of his tongue gently taking in your taste before he sucked you in.   
   
For a moment you lost focus. You doubted you had ever known anyone who kissed like him. Soft, yet urgent. Often unhurried, like he needed to savor you. Always leaving you wanting for more. Tonight was no different.  
   
His lips returned to yours but his hands... his hands moved to the front of your open blazer, slowly pulling the garment off you.   
Your blouse was next. Careful hands undoing buttons; one at a time. His hands. Yours seemed to have lost all ability to move. Your arms resting at your sides because you seemed in a trance.   
   
He reached the last button, his hands slipping under silk to pull the blouse off your body. You shivered when you felt his fingertips tease over your skin, goose-bumps forming at the thought of where else they would travel tonight.  
   
He straightened to a tall stand and pulled you up, his hands falling to your wrists, thumbs massaging them gently before he lifted them to his lips, leaving behind tenuous kisses that procured more soft sighs from you.   
"Tell me about your day," he requested with a whisper; lips dragging up your arms, one at a time, while he waited for an answer.  
You shook your head.  
"Tell me," he repeated with a tender kiss behind your left earlobe.  
"Too many clients, too little time. And one pissed-off boss," you sighed.  
   
"I'm sorry, my love," he whispered, soft kisses now detailing the features of your face. Brows, eyelids, cheeks, chin. "So sorry," he repeated, kissing the tip of your nose, and you shrugged.   
He cupped your face with one hand, intense gaze because he meant what he had just said, then kissed you, yet again, pressing you into his body with his free hand splayed on your back. When he let go, he took off his own dress-shirt, and the t-shirt he wore underneath. Then his hands were back on you.   
   
It didn't take long for him to find the button and zipper of your skirt. He opened both, the garment falling over your legs to the floor with a soft, almost inaudible thud.   
You stepped out and pushed the skirt to the side, only clad in your bra and panties now, which made him smile a wide smile. So wide, it etched deep creases into his cheeks.  
   
You pushed against his chest. "Shut up." You snickered.  
"I did not say anything." He perked a brow.  
"You were about to." You countered with a perked brow of your own.  
"Hmmmm... just... to tell you how much I love this on you," he started playing with the straps of your bra and you felt your whole body flush with warmth.  
   
He nudged you back towards the edge of the mattress, soft velvet on soft velvet while his hands trailed off to unhook clasps. There was no hurry on his part. He opened the clasps almost painstakingly slow, sliding the straps of your bra down your arms one at a time before slowly peeling the rest of it away, one cup at a time.   
   
He smiled again. At the reveal. And you teased another push against his chest which made him smile even more.   
He brushed his fingers over soft flesh, thumbs circling over hardening bundles of nerves, lips on your neck, drawing out sigh after sigh from you.  
He leaned forward and you let your upper body fall back on cool sheets, legs hanging over the edge of the bed, your toes barely reaching the hardwood floor now.   
   
Everything remained slow. Everything, except your heartbeat.   
And it wasn't just because you knew where this would lead. It was that AND everything about him. The way he kissed you. The way he touched you. The way his cologne was mixed with scents of him and his day. And the way he felt when he was close to you. Radiating heat from trained perfection. Compact heaviness you didn't mind taking your breath away whenever he was on top of you. Just like right now because he loved feeling you against himself as much as you did him.  
   
More tenderness. Kisses that started with skimming the edges of each other's lips, and proceeded to tongue searching for tongue kind of passion with hands exploring each other's bodies, outlining favorite arches and creases and edges and curves. He could never get enough of you. Nor you of him. Especially once his own moans increased. And you loved hearing him moan. Gravely. Rasped. But content.  
   
One more kiss and your legs wrapped around his waist. An invitation for him to drag lips and hands down your body. An invitation he gladly accepted, his lips traveling from between the valley of your breasts to your abs; hands from the soft curves of your breasts down your sides to your hips.  
   
Your toes curled when he reached the edge of your panties. Fiery breath beneath fierier kisses, right where fabric met skin. It had your nerves tingling and your own breath speed up. A few more kisses, now with little licks, and you knew it wouldn't be long before fingers would curl into fabric to pull panties off. And he did. Languidly, with suckling kisses up thighs and calves while guiding your legs up to rest your feet on his shoulders as he stood back up.  
   
He looked down on you, strong fingers massaging the bottom of your feet. You sighed at the relief of a long day slowly lifting away; closing your eyes, your arms relaxing above your head to enjoy the moment through the sounds his lips made whenever he pulled away from a kiss.   
   
Kisses on your ankles, he massaged over shins and thighs. Flat palms. Soft yet firm. And you sighed, yet again. A few more moments, then he dropped to his knees, your legs sliding over his shoulders, your feet coming to a rest on his trained, upper back.   
   
There was a moment of no movement. Stillness from him. Held breath from you. You could feel him gazing between your legs. And you knew... you just knew of the smirk hiding behind his deep brown eyes as he made you wait.  
   
"Geni," you whined and he laughed. Another second, another whine, then his lips brushed against your folds, your hips jerking up at the feather-light touch. That held breath pushing out in a long, heavy sigh. He kept kissing along delicate skin and your hips settled back down, relaxing into the feeling of his lips against your folds. Little pecks. Little licks. Little teases of his nose to part tender skin.  
   
That is until he stilled again. Just for a second because he needed to adjust his grasp on your thighs. Firm hands, he spread you just a little more. Just enough for your folds to open a little on their own. Another second of felt eternity, another whimpered "Geni", another laugh, then his tongue flattened into you.   
   
Deep. Like a scoop. Right before lips closed as to not waste that first drop of sweetness from you; hands grasping firmer to keep your legs apart for him to get more. You gasped at the feeling of his tongue repeatedly dipping into you. Licking - no! Drinking away as much as he could, him moaning at the taste of you. And at you raking your nails over his short hair.   
   
A few more dips, then his tongue slithered to your clit, coiling around before sucking you in, strong hands staying on your thighs. For good reason. Switching between firm and soft suction and teasing tongue, if he was to let go, you would squeeze the air from him in a leg held choke. He knew that. So he held strong while getting you there. With tender urgency while sucking a little harder each time. Licking a little rougher with each pass. Drawing you in more and more until you went from writhing hips and scratching nails to tensed stillness that left your whole body aching.  
   
"Jesus... fucking... Christ... Geni...," You panted between each word before you relaxed back into the sheets.   
You heard him laugh between your legs, so you reached for a pillow above your head and smashed it against his, but he didn't care. He laughed even louder while pulling himself back to a stand, a wink in tow which made you throw the pillow at him, but he caught it and tossed it wherever.   
   
Just before you could reach for another one, he was on top of you, seizing your hands by your wrists and pulling them above your head with one hand while the other teased down to between your legs, coming to a rest between closing thighs.  
   
"So feisty," he laughed against your neck and you writhed below his body offering only a "fuck you" in return. And another "fuck you" when he teased soft kisses down your neck and into the curve because you knew that _he knew_ if he kissed right there, you were a goner for whatever else he had planned.  
   
A few more kisses into that curve and you relaxed. He let go of your wrists and slipped off to your side, one of your legs caught between his, your free leg snaking around his waist. The hand that had teased down your body earlier now teasing you there.  
Soft fingers traced over tender skin while his thumb stayed on your clit, drawing slow but firm circles, coaxing soft whispers from you in response. Like small praises that he was doing this right.   
   
The pressure of two fingers slipping in, though, caught a surprised moan in your throat and he smirked against your neck. "You can do better than that," he whispered and you gasped. You knew what was about to come.  
The fingers within didn't stay still. They searched for that spot. The one he knew would make you tremble out those high pitched moans and pleas to god. Music to his ears.  
   
And as musician he loved hearing all sorts of music; so he knew how to hit the right keys to produce the most beautiful sounds. And tonight you were his instrument and he knew how to hit the right nerves, playing the same scale in repetition over and over but faster and harder each time until it felt like he got one continuous song from you. "There it is," he nipped your lobe, then sucked in the skin on your neck and didn't let go until you cried out his name.   
   
He watched your face, his fingers moving inside of you, still. Beads of sweat at your temple, you felt a smirked gaze. He enjoyed watching you get there. He enjoyed seeing you gasp and writhe and whimper. But it annoyed you because whenever he saw you getting close, he slowed down to draw it out just a little longer. Because he knew, the longer he drew it out, the harder you would cum. And he loved when you came hard.  
   
Sweet moans turned to frustration and you shot him a look. He kissed your jaw, chuckling, then sped up. Harder circles over your clit, more nipped skin on your neck. Breathing heavy.  
So close.  
So close!  
He could see it in how you started holding your breath. In the way your arms and legs started tensing, trying to pull your nerves to snap that way.   
   
"Come for me," he whispered beneath fiery breath, fingers moving even faster. "Come for me," he repeated, right before biting your neck again. "Come for me!"  
   
And you did.   
   
With a cry of pleasure so loud you were sure the whole neighborhood knew where it came from.  
   
You relaxed and felt his body against yours. Hardness straining through the fabric of his pants against your leg. Your hands wandered to the belt; wanting, eager to undress the rest of him, but he stopped you.   
"Not quite done yet, darling," he whispered and your body shuddered at his words. "Not. Quite. Done." He repeated, kissing his way back down to between your legs, him kneeling on the floor again.   
   
You were barely able to move your legs. Repeated tension had left them weak like that, so he helped you. Guiding your feet on his shoulders this time, and your knees angled next to his head.   
   
He tugged you closer to the edge of the mattress and you whimpered at the thought of falling down. He chuckled. Not that he'd dare to let you fall.  
"Just one more," he mumbled against seeping folds and you shivered in return, because you knew that "just one more" meant "just one more with fingers and tongue". And you knew, he wouldn't stop until he got you there, again. Pleading and writhing, because he loved upping the game.  
   
A hissed "fuck" and your back arched up. His lips had returned to your clit, sucking fiercely, two fingers back inside of you searching for that spot while his free hand stayed firm on your stomach; gently pushing you back down on the mattress so he could stay latched on you in search for that spot. You didn't have to tell him when he found it, again. A twitch and a gasp and he knew to keep his fingers there. Right there! Rubbing over and over again.  
   
The buildup was fast after that. But only the buildup. Like tethering ropes. Tightening more and more towards your core. You begged at your own body for release. You wanted to grab the headboard. Gain leverage to help build the tension. Too far away. And the sheets? Those weren't enough. Too little resistance. So your fingers clawed at the mattress instead, arms flexing against the hold.  
   
More strokes. Heated licks. Curled fingers hitting that nerve. The edge was so close. So close! You felt like you were ready to get torn apart. Tension building with each passing second from all corners of your body.   
But still not enough.   
Fuck, you were so close.   
Just a little more.   
You could feel it.   
Just. A. Little. More.  
"Geni, please!" You pleaded and he picked up the pace, your feet shoving against his shoulders because tender urgency had become rough and greedy. Cusp between pleasure and pain.  
   
Not even the strangled "oh god" and your toes digging into his muscles had him soften his moves. No! He kept at it. Fast fingers, fiery tongue, ferocious lips. He kept at it until a screamed "FUCK" echoed through the room and your body went from flexed stiffness to relaxed euphoria, you repeating the word "fuck" over and over, but softer with each repeat.  
   
Your mind went numb for a moment. You felt your legs shaking but it seemed unreal, that last climax having you in a trance for a few minutes.  
"You alright," you heard his voice then felt his lips skimming the inside of your thighs, leaving behind tender kisses to soothe your skin.  
"Yes. Just need a few," you sighed.  
   
More kisses, then he stood up, smirking. Perched brow, and mouth wet from your sweetness. He didn't even attempt wiping it away. In fact, he licked off the fingers that had worked you up from inside, and you hated him in that very second. That cocky, //that's right babe//, knowing stance.   
   
You wanted to kick him but your legs were simply too weak. Trembling still, which made him laugh.   
"Stop it," you panted.  
"You want me to stop. Alright, I'll stop." He pretended to turn towards the door and you threw a pillow his way.  
"You know exactly what I mean," your pant increased, and he turned back to you.  
"I know," he winked. Damn him!  
   
You moved back on the bed, legs still shaking, and watched him take off his pants at last. And like before, he kept it slow. One last tease to get one last, annoyed look out of you. Belt. Button. Zipper. Then his pants dropped to the ground. A titled head and he slipped his briefs down his legs. A confident grin because he was ready for you and because he had caught you lick your lips in anticipation.   
   
He wiggled his brow and you threw the last pillow.   
He climbed onto the bed, moving one of your legs between his, the other he guided gently over his shoulder. He leaned down, biting into the soft flesh of your breasts before he gave you a kiss; you tasting yourself on his lips.   
   
He smirked again. Confident. Something that earned him a pinch in his arm.  
"Oh, come on. Don't pretend like I'm not the best," he grinned, and you started laughing. And so did he. Cocky bastard.   
You swung your arms around his neck and pulled him in for a deep, French kiss. "You are," you whispered, with a smirk of your own. "And so am I."   
He hummed in agreement.  
   
Another tender kiss. And one more. His free hand went to his cock so he could line up with you. He teased a few times, rubbing the tip up and down your folds, chuckling into your neck when you told him "fuck you". One more tease, then hard pressure stretched you out and you moaned at the feeling.   
   
He watched your face again, stretching the leg over his shoulder more and more towards your upper body while he moved in and out. Languid expansion, slower withdrawal, return to tender urgency. A few more, deep pushes, then his lips were back on yours because he loved kissing you whenever he was finally inside of you. With gravelly moans and whispers of how good you felt around him.   
   
But tender didn't stay tender long. Making you cum turned him on, and this time he may have waited too long before he got around to this. Gentle thrusts turned into hard jolts. He let go of your leg, the leg falling to his waist, and squeezed you close to himself. Moving faster, biting your shoulder, your neck, your breasts; whatever he deemed biteable.  
   
Stinging bites and aching thrusts, compact heaviness pressing you into the mattress and the air from your lungs, but you didn't care because he was bringing you there again. One more time.  
"Geni," you whispered. "I'm so close."  
"I know. I can feel." He breathed.  
   
He squeezed you closer, yet, his nails digging into your skin, and you scratched fierce lines down the plane of his back. A few more thrusts, hard and deep, and you yelled his name; him following closely behind, holding you so tight, you thought you were going to pass out. He held on just a little longer. Just long enough until throbbing hardness was replaced by thick warmth; his forehead coming to rest on your shoulder so he could catch his breath, beads of sweat rolling from his skin onto yours.   
   
"You still want dinner?" He asked with a rasp.  
It took a second for the question to process, but once it did you both fell into laughter.  
"I think, I think... dinner can wait," you said once you two had calmed down.  
"You sure," he asked, kissing a thin line from your shoulder up your neck and you just hummed, running your hand up and down his back, the long day forgotten by the time you fell asleep in his arms.


End file.
